


to love, and to be loved (is the greatest happiness of existence)

by Amy_Stark117



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Ficlet, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love, Minor Original Character(s), Miya Atsumu Being an Idiot, Miya Atsumu is a Little Shit, Mutual Pining, Non-Chronological, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Triwizard Tournament, Yule Ball (Harry Potter), durmstrang!atsumu, the boys and gals are part of the other schools this time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29231028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amy_Stark117/pseuds/Amy_Stark117
Summary: The Triwizard Tournament has come to Hogwarts, but you face an even bigger challenge than the famed magical contest.Namely Durmstrang's Miya Atsumu, who just won't leave you alone.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 52
Kudos: 104





	1. the first look

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> To those who know me, hello again i'm suffering writers block pls send help lol i'm sorry my other stuff (specifically you found me) is taking so long, i really didn't mean for it to get so out of hand but take this as a peace offering!
> 
> I always wanted to write a HP AU, and after seeing a tiktok with atsumu as a durmstrang and going on a HP marathon with my friend I had an itch I needed to scratch. But I really need to thank the lovely folks at the ghosts we see discord server, who fell down the rabbit hole with me until we were creating an entire au for ourselves with our personas and storylines. And because of that, I just HAD to include them in this story, so if you see some original characters, that's them! Don't be put off by them, the story will focus on Atsumu and reader so they won't be there often but if you see them, treat them with the love and respect they deserve! I hope you love them as much as I do.
> 
> Now, here's how the boys/schools were sorted so you won't be struggling to keep up:  
> Karasuno, Fukurodani, Johzenji, Kamomedai, and Itachiyama are in Hogwarts  
> Seijoh and Nekoma are in Beauxbatons  
> Inarizaki, Shiratorizowa and Date Tech are in Durmstrang  
> ...I hope that isn't too confusing lol
> 
> I think that's about it for now. This story won't be in chronological order (at least I think!) and is just a ficlet showing all the tender moments these idiots share as they fall in love :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this, please let me know what you think! Happy reading!

They stormed into the great hall like a red wave; a sea of pride and regal fury, with their heads held high and stern, set brows. They were men of fur and steel, wide shoulders and long legs, determination in their gait. The women were just as intimidating, muses of strength and resilience with sharp eyes and swirling red robes, and everyone in between added to create a moving wall of ferocious grace, to show the world they were not a school to be underestimated. 

The students of the Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning have arrived at Hogwarts, and they bring war.

Your neck aches as it cranes upwards from where you sit with your fellow Ravenclaws, eyes flickering between faces of all kinds knowing you'll more than likely forget them within seconds. You're more so fascinated with these strangers of fortitude who have barged into your school, waving and banging wooden poles so hard you see cracks forming on the ancient floors of Hogwarts before your attention is stolen by the few at the front who spew fire from their lips like wild dragons in the sky.

From what you can see, the students of Beauxbatons look as equally impressed as those at Hogwarts, clapping and singing praise at the performance displayed and you can't help but agree with your own enthusiastic response, trying not to roll your eyes too much when you overhear some complain about the 'most barbaric display of dance they had ever seen'.

One by one your gaze switches between each student in their robes of red and brown, mentally making a list of the most formidable looking foes your school will have to face, trying in vain to remember all the strong faces until your eyes do a double take on one, singular person, watching idly as he takes a seat with the other Durmstrangs with a curve of his lips and an arrogance to his form. 

Try as you might, you fail to take your eyes away from this one man, who wears confidence like armour and has the body to back it up, rather annoyingly. 

You thought for a fleeting moment you were seeing double until you realised it was not your mind playing tricks on you, but rather this one had a twin, the pair defined by contrasting hair colours that seem almost eager to be as different from one another as possible - one with hair close to shining as bright as a golden galleon, the other with a mop as grey as the thundering clouds surrounding the castle. 

If one was enough to hold your attention, then by all rights the pair of them should have been more than enough to keep you in this strange trance. And while you don't doubt Mr Grey Haired is as handsome as they come, with his defined, youthful face set in a bored stare and his thick legs (look away,  _ look away before he catches you!)  _ stretched out before him, your eyes keep returning to his brighter counterpart. 

His blonde hair flops over his eyes, a large hand rubbing over a short, darker patch of hair that sits beneath it as he leans towards a spidery looking red haired man who whispers in his ear. Whatever the crimson one said must have been funny as his lips part in a wide grin that spreads heat through your gut, eyeing the way the force of such a smile curls his eyes upwards in the sweetest way, and if you listen carefully you can hear the rumble of his laughter above the excited chatter in the hall. 

He is as wide and athletically built as the rest of them with a body that seems almost too big for the uniform he wears, muscles too strong for a person his age bulging beneath the rough fabric of the Durmstrang uniform. He gazes about the room with a lazy eye, but you're not fooled. You see the calculated look in his eye, the way he judges and evaluates those around him, sizing them up and wagering his chances of success. And from the smirk that crawls on his face, you reckon he assumes his odds of success are guaranteed. 

He is the very definition of self assurance - of faith in his abilities and talents, in his looks and his pride. He is strength, intrigue and mischief bottled into one boyishly handsome person.

And it pisses you off as much as it fascinates you. 

Some girls, typically the younger ones, giggle and squeal when he directs his heart stopping smile at them, and you can't help but snort derisively, as childish as that is. He's just some student, not Harry Potter in the flesh. 

Akaashi nudges you in the shoulder, and you turn away from Mr Goldilocks to stare at your best friend. His brows furrow lightly, and you withhold a sigh, knowing he's about to lecture you for barely listening to the speeches.

"Are you even paying attention?"

"Of course I am. When don't I?" you wink, and he can only shake his head in response. 

"You don't want me to answer that. That list is as tall as Hagrid." 

You flash him a look of offense, ready to spew off the few achievements you can think of, namely the fact that you've managed to nab better grades in Defense Against the Dark Arts than he did, but he cuts you off quickly with a disinterested look.

"It would be wise to listen. You said you were going to enter the tournament, didn't you?"

You look away with an immature huff, looking around at your fellow classmates sitting at their house seats with a pout. You spot some of your friends in their seats, namely Bokuto and Luca, who wave enthusiastically when they catch your eye, their red Gryffindor ties swinging wildly in the air, already loosened and turned into makeshift flags when cheering for the visiting schools. It makes you laugh loudly, and you slap Tsukishima's leg away from you when he kicks you obnoxiously. Akaashi flashes him a look over your head, and the blonde tuts, but remains silent. 

"I didn't say I was going to enter for definite," you reply eventually. You look over at the blues of Beauxbatons. A weird mix, otherwise unassuming compared to the overwhelming aura of Durmstrang. Definitely one to keep an eye on. Your curiosity drags your eyes back to the blonde Durmstrang. His brother holds his attention now, much to the dismay of the Slytherin girls at the table next to Durmstrang Institute.

"Well, regardless," Akaashi continues, "You should be listening to what the headmaster has to say about what kind of challenges the tournament will have. You need to start preparing now if you have any chance of winning. You have no idea what you're up against - not listening to vital information could cost the school a win."

Wow. What a way to put pressure on someone. He immediately senses he may have pushed too far, if your silence was anything to go by. With a low sigh, he leans against your arm lightly, and you bite back whatever foolish words want to tumble free from your lips in favour of accepting the rare bit of affection Akaashi can offer. You look up at your best friend, who offers you a small smile.

“I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. I just want what's best for you, you know that. And if that means forcing you to listen to possible life and limb saving speeches that last a millenia, then so be it.” His smile becomes a little wider, a little warmer, when you give a light laugh at that. “I know you want to prove yourself. And I think you’ll do well if you get that chance.”

Your lips begin to pull back into a wide grin, but he faces away from you, returning his full attention to the headmaster once again, while speaking lowly, “But you won’t make it past the first task if you don’t get your head out of the clouds and pay attention.”

“Like that will happen,” Tsukishima snorts behind you. You grit your teeth, feeling satisfied with the grunt he emits when you elbow his gut.

Fine. Because he’s your best friend, you will appease him and do as he wishes and tune into...whatever is being said. Something about bonding with the other schools. 

_ Well _ , that’s not really a life or death piece of information, is it? Tuning out for another few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

With one last look at Akaashi to make sure he’s looking away, you return to your musings, eyes roving over old and new faces, from the beautiful, silky blue Beauxbatons uniforms and the even prettier people that wear them, to the professors that stand alongside Headmaster Ukai as his voice booms through the great hall.

And like a seeker to a snitch, you find yourself searching for the blonde Durmstrang boy one last time before finally making good on your promise to Akaashi. You half expect him to have found some poor girl to charm, he seems the type to entertain the poor souls that fawn over him like lovestruck fools. 

Only when your eyes finally find the mop of blonde hair, he isn’t distracted by his classmates or some cute Hufflepuff, or even listening to the introductions. 

He’s looking at you.

His dark brows rise a tad higher on his forehead when you meet his gaze, biting at the corner of his lip as his hands seemingly attempt to find something to do, switching between clenching and loosening, fidgeting with his robe or smoothing out the creases in his pants. You can feel heat crawling to your face as this unplanned staring contest continues, but you don’t feel compelled to look away. You take in what features you could make out from the distance - a thick set of brows, a lean face, and bright eyes that hold a certain perceptiveness, hiding a well of secrets and a myriad of thoughts.

And then he releases his lip from his teeth, and stretches them into a smile that looks so unbelievably kind it looks almost strange sitting on the face of someone with an aura of haughty pride. 

(It makes him look young, is your first thought, and it sounds rather stupid in your mind but it’s true. Gone are the grim, battle ready expressions he sported when entering the hall with the rest of them. Now, with the grin he wears, he looks his age, and he now seems to ooze with even more charm than before. 

It reminds you of the stories your aunty would tell you when she visited; tales of old, eternal loves, where the excitable young witch is stopped dead in her tracks by the most beautiful and strapping wizard, or knight, or prince. It did not matter what form they came in, for the stories began and ended the same - with a gorgeous smile, and a love so powerful it defies the balance of the universe.

From the tips of your toes to the top of your head you feel a surge of something you can’t quite place. It feels like when you drink a potion, or when you cast a spell - a reaction that overwhelms your senses and captivates you, pinning your focus and demanding attention. 

That makes your heart sing out and take control of your entire being.)

So, as not to be rude, you give one back, a gentle upturn of your lips that hopefully takes attention away from your burning cheeks. Mr Goldilocks’ smile gets even brighter, and he moves to sit up straighter, much to the annoyance of his brother who was using him as a cushion. The rapidly bouncing leg makes him look like some sort of puppy waiting for a treat, and you choke back a laugh at the absurdity of it.

You hold his gaze for a second longer until you shift forward again, intent on actually absorbing some information now that Headmaster Ukai is getting to the juicy bits and ignoring the rapidly growing fluttering feeling in your stomach that gets stronger with each flash of his smile in your mind.

The hairs on the nape of your neck stand when Tsukishima leans in close to whisper, “fraternising with the enemy?”

“Shut up, Tsukishima, or I  _ will  _ poison your food.” Your face feels like it’s on fire, but you refuse to turn around and show him, knowing damn well he can probably already see the rosy red cheeks you’re sporting.

He snickers and blesses you by actually moving away rather than pushing the jokes, but you sigh regardless because he’ll bring them back in force once you both return to Ravenclaw Tower this evening. 

Risking one more glance to the left at the mysterious student, your heart flip flops and tumbles to see he’s already got his eye on you.  _ Creep,  _ you think, but can’t restrain the giddy smile on your face. He smirks at your reaction, satisfied with the knowledge that he’s wiggled his way into your thoughts, and leans back into the seat with a sort of cockiness that nearly makes you scoff out loud. 

(Oh, how this mystery man has tossed your emotions around like the Womping Willow on school grounds.)

As the excitement in the room reaches boiling point, you can’t help but feel he’s about to make this a very long year.

His smile plays on your mind once again, churning the Cornish Pixies swirling up trouble in your stomach and leaving the thoughts in your mind scrambled and incoherent. Akaashi would be so disappointed in you if he could read your thoughts right now.

And yet, the smile on your face blooms, like a wildflower basking in the sunshine, spreading its petals and reaching out for the light.

(Yes. A very long year indeed.

But one, you think, that will be worth every second.)


	2. foot in his mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, an update that didn't take a over a month to write? this MUST be witchcraft!
> 
> also before you ask, [here is the atrocious song in question](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7I6cJnQQsWc) hahaha
> 
> please let me know if there are any mistakes, and enjoy as usual!! feedback is always appreciated!

The familiar smell of ancient texts, parchment paper and ink in pots surrounds you as you sit in the library, eyes roving over words and drawings that begin to blur together the longer you sit here. You’re anxious, bouncing your legs up and down beneath the table, knocking your knees into the wood on more than one occasion and swishing your quill back and forth between your fingers with impatience as you lose interest in the scribbled notes in front of you. You look to your watch for the millionth time that day, and give a huff to see not even a minute has passed since you last looked at it. Time is moving much too slow for you, and you’re itching for this study session to end and for your free period to start.

(Slow, slow, slow, but also much too quick for your nerves to comprehend.)

The people you share the table with, three Hufflepuff classmates and friends of yours, keep looking up at you in concern, but otherwise say nothing, sharing their notes quietly because they understand the cause for your jittery nature.

Asahi is grim faced beside you, and from the very few times you’ve peeked over at him, he’s found it too hard to focus on the notes and pages scattered across the table. You’ve even heard his stomach churn a few times, and while it makes you grimace, you can’t help but share the feeling.

Another impatient huff from you gets Yamaguchi to finally break the silence with a pained, nervous smile.

“Are you ok? Both of you?”

The girl beside him, Mags, looks between you both with blunt worry, fiddling with the end of her bright, golden tie. 

(It reminds you of the hair of a certain boy who's smile made your skin thrum with excitement but you refuse to think about that right now.)

You shrug, but the movement feels heavy, like you’re trying to shift through molasses. 

“Fine,” both you and Asahi answer simultaneously, in rushed and shaky voices that clearly give away whatever facade of bravery you’ve both put up is on the verge of crumbling to pieces.

“You’ve been on edge since the introduction ceremony,” Mags says with a grimace. She’s not completely wrong. Ever since the speeches had wrapped up and the students were sent off to mingle and do as they pleased, you had been hit with a wave of doubt and fear about tossing your name into the Goblet of Fire.

What if you failed miserably? _In the first round?_ What if you died or lost a limb like Akaashi had said? You would like to keep all fingers and toes intact while you could. What if you were too weak and scared to even move as soon as you were told to go? Your name would be dragged through the dirt, you’d never get a job in the wizarding world, you’d be shunned by society and left to scramble in the muggle world, working as someone who picks litter off the ground which, to be fair, is still a respectable job but obviously not the one you want and you’re going to wither away and die in a ditch somewhere to be lost and forgotten-

Asahi gives you a nudge, and you snap out of your stupor to see three sets of worried faces.

“Just nervous,” you answer quickly, picking up your quill once again to scribble into your notebook. Yamaguchi flashes you a look of disbelief. “To be honest, I’m more upset by the stupid Hogwarts song they made us sing than entering the tournament.”

Mags looks crestfallen, and you bite back a curse when you remember belatedly that she had a solo in said stupid song. _Great. Mostly likely will lose the tournament and make people upset before I even enter the damn thing._

“B-But I really loved your solo, Mags!” you panic and sit up straight. “A lot of the Durmstrang students looked bewitched by your lovely voice. Don’t think they’ve ever heard anything so sweet in that frozen wasteland.”

She blushes, and smiles down at her books, murmuring a quiet thanks. _Crisis averted._

You check your watch again to see it’s nearing the time for your free period, and your legs resume their twitching. Asahi groans and rests his head on the dark wood. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” Asahi wails, and Yamaguchi laughs uneasily, trying to lighten the mood.

“It probably isn’t as bad as you think it is. I mean, all you have to do is put your name into the Goblet and hope you get picked.”

“That’s the problem. Getting picked is... _terrifying,”_ Asahi shivers, words muffled from the wood. The freckled boy across from him frowns in confusion.

“Then...why enter?”

You sigh, and lay your head on the desk with Asahi. “Stupidity and pride,” you answer scornfully. Mags and Yamguchi share a laugh. 

“Who put their name in already?” Mags questions.

“Bokuto, Hoshiumi, Kageyama and…” you squint, trying to remember. “Daichi, as far as I know.”

“Well, I think you’ll both be fine, whether or not you get into the tournament. You’re both skilled, I think you’ve a good chance at winning!” Yamaguchi grins, and the smile is so infectious that you give your own back. 

Your head jolts up from the table when you hear your name being called, and standing there at the entrance to the library, looking very annoyed and fed up as usual, is Sakusa. You glance at your watch one final time and jump out of your seat to gather your things quickly with a stomach swirling like a stormy sea. Yamaguchi gives the Ravenclaw a wave, and only gets a nod and an impatient tap of his feet in return.

“Oh. Why is Sakusa here?” he asks. You throw your book bag over your shoulder and adjust your uniform. Asahi stands up like a man preparing for his own funeral, his movements nervous and full of hesitance. You pat him on the back and try to give him your strongest and most encouraging smile. Sakusa isn’t going to help you carry him if he faints on the way to the great hall.

“He’s entering too. I asked to go with him so I’m not alone since Akaashi is busy with Prefect meetings. You know, for moral support.” You give your arms and legs a shake to release the tension in your body. It doesn’t do much. “Though I’m sure I’d get more support from a screaming mandrake,” you murmur quietly with a shake of your head. “Let’s go Asahi. See you later, guys.”

The bearded man sighs but follows, muttering his goodbyes to his fellow housemates. Yamaguchi and Mags flash their brightest smiles and give a thumbs up. “Good luck, guys!” they chime in unison, but you barely pay any attention to it as you put all your focus into not letting your knees give out with anxiety.

* * *

The walk seems longer than you remember, and Sakusa offering very little in the way of conversation forces you to make company with your dark thoughts on what seems like the most daunting walk of your life. Asahi is too preoccupied with not vomiting on his Hufflepuff uniform to answer to anything you say coherently, and so you opt for biting worriedly at your lip, hands reaching into the pocket of your uniform to fiddle with the piece of parchment kept there with your name scratched on it to toss in the Goblet.

When you reach the hall, the Goblet of Fire seems even more intimidating than it had at the opening ceremony, sitting ominously with its blue flames in the centre of the great hall as it accepts the slips of papers the hopefuls offer, all the while judging silently with invisible eyes. 

A few students sit around the edges of the hall, most likely out of sheer nosiness and judgement, wanting to see who’s brave enough to put their name in. It puts you on edge, all these beady eyes staring much like the habitants of the Owlery, eyes staring hard and burning holes into your back. You wipe the sweat building up on your hands subtly against your skirt. This is why you got a cat, damn it. At least she wasn’t judgemental with you.

Before you can blink, Asahi surprisingly rushes forward and all but throws his name into the cup before he can think twice, turning around the sit on the nearest bench with a face whiter than snow as nearby housemates surround him and cheer for their fellow Hufflepuff. Sakusa shifts beside you.

“Hmm. Didn’t think he would actually do it,” is all he says, and then he’s stalking forward himself with steady steps, looking almost graceful as his long legs carry him to the cup and his paper floats into the blue flames of the Goblet. Another round of cheering and yelping come from the few Ravenclaw students that sit in the area, moving over to clap him on the back and offer their well wishes, and when he sits down he offers you a look of complete repulsion and annoyance that practically pleads for you to just toss your name in so you both can leave and return to Ravenclaw Tower.

Suddenly you find your feet too heavy to move as the weight of reality is pushed on your back. You’re actually going to do this. The piece of paper feels too burdensome in your pocket now, and when you pull it out, you’re almost tempted to let it fall to the ground and run back to your dorms. But it’s too late now. There are too many pairs of eyes on you, watching your every move, and allowing them to watch a moment of weakness is too much for you to bear. You look around and lock eyes with a buff looking Beauxbatons student, with dark hair, green eyes and tanned skin that contrast his powder blue uniform. He offers you an encouraging smile, and the other pair of Beauxbatons with him, a lazy eyed brunette and mischievous looking man with hair that almost looks pink flash you a thumbs up and a wag of their eyebrows, and it’s silly enough to partially ease your fears and get your feet moving.

With your heart pounding in your chest it’s hard to hear essentially anything else, putting all your attention on the paper in your hand and the blue cup that stands a few steps away. Because of this, you fail to hear the doors to the great hall open, you fail to notice the heads of all the seated students turn in one direction to spy the intruders as the chatter falls to quiet murmurs and whispers, and you definitely fail to see the soldiers in red who make their way into the room, thundering footsteps echoing as they make their way to the very same destination as you.

But what you _do_ hear, as you throw the important little piece of paper into Goblet and watch as the flames shimmer and shake gently, is the most _obnoxious and irritatingly cocky_ voice ring out just as the paper slipped from your fingers:

“Wow. This is all Hogwarts has t’offer? Girly here looks too weak to walk, let alone take on a tournament like this. Looks like ‘s gonna be an easy win for Durmstrang, guys.”

Oh. Well, now _that?_

That pisses you off.

You see more red than just the cloaks of the Durmstrang uniform as you turn around to face the voice, a scowl etched on your face and all worries about the tournament banished from your thoughts as you search for your new mortal enemy. The heat of embarrassment creeps up your neck as you stare at all these strange faces, wondering if they were even people or just strangely shaped towers for the height of them, standing over you like larger pillars of strength.

And then your eyes spot Mr Goldilocks from yesterday, the one with the stunning smile that you were ashamed to admit you thought of for most of the night, allowing the giddiness from that moment to overwhelm you when your worries became too strong. 

His jaw drops when he sees you, and splashes of bright red colour his cheeks and neck as he panics in place, looking very distraught that you stand here before him, subject to heckling from his school and not at all like the handsome and charming man from yesterday. A few in the surrounding crowds come to your aid and offer their own insults and boos, namely the Beauxbatons pair from moments ago who stand up and hurl out the strangest insults until the stronger one pulls them back down with a glare.

A girl, one of the few accompanying Durmstrang at Hogwarts, offers the blonde twin a whack to his stomach, showing no sympathy as he doubles over in pain with a yelp. “Apologise to her!”

“Ow- Hino that _hurts,”_ he wails, but ‘Hino’ only rolls her eyes, brushing her hair out of her face. Another one, with white hair and dark tips, steps forward to grasp the blonde one firmly on the shoulder, and Mr Goldilocks freezes once he realises who stands next to him.

“Atsumu, it’s unbecoming of you and our school to stoop to taunting insults. We let our skills do the talking. I’m disappointed. Apologise to this young woman immediately.”

(The butterflies in your stomach, the ones that kept you company last night and took flight once again at the sight of his bright hair now turn to stone and die, and leave their dull weight behind. You don't know why you feel betrayed, exactly. You don’t know this person, had only looked at him briefly and shared scattered glances of his smile, a smile he most likely flashes at every girl who comes his way. 

It was foolish of you, _and childish,_ to allow yourself be so enraptured by just another pretty face among the masses who barely gave you the time of day. You’re hurt, and you have no right to be, so now you’re _angry.)_

‘Atsumu’, as you’ve learned his name was, stands up with great reluctance, a slow rise from his bow to his full height, and at least has the decency to look ashamed, thought whether it's because he insulted you or just got told off by his superiors publicly, you aren't sure, and that honestly ticks you off even more. 

With a nudge to his back from Hino, he stumbles over his feet until he stands directly in front of you, and you're aware of every aspect of his being; from the brilliance of his blonde hair that sits on his head, the rosy blush dusting his cheeks dark enough to rival the Durmstrang cloaks, the body heat that you feel emanating from beneath the roughspun, dark uniform he wears like the warmth of a summer's day, and the distinct smell of woody, earthy things like a lush forest of flowers and trees, and something else. Something like...like…

Like sweat, as if he'd just walked in from training for ten hours straight. 

It reminds you of when Bokuto would sit next to you in Herbology in the mornings straight after the Gryffindors’ quidditch practice, when he was running late to class and couldn’t afford to shower away the physical pressures of the morning. He’d laugh every time you gagged at the stench, and you swore up and down to anyone that would listen that you saw a few of the plants in the greenhouse _wilt._ And this smell was exactly like that - the stink of a boy who cared too much about his sports to care about his hygiene.

Typical.

"Oi," he starts with an awkward cough, and averts his eyes to stare at something else to the side. "Look, 'm sorry I said that, or whatever. Hope ya can forgive me.”

That was the sorriest excuse of an apology you’d ever heard. Even Terushima apologised better when he snuck his toad into your bed. (How he ever got into Ravenclaw, you’ll never understand, good test scores be damned.) You cross your arms over your chest, a line of defense between you and the blonde brute, and scowl at him regardless of whether he’s looking at it or not.

“No.”

That grabs his attention. His brown orbs, so painfully beautiful and breathtaking now that you know what colour they are, swivel around to meet yours in shock with brows inching up his hairline. Clearly he isn’t used to many people telling him no, or not getting his way. Figures. 

His surprise quickly turns to confusion. “Huh? Whaddya mean _‘no’?”_

“I mean - I don’t accept your apology for being a rude little _shit._ It’s the worst apology I’ve ever been subjected to and you clearly don’t mean it.”

His face burns like a furnace and his mouth flops open and closed dumbly as he gawks at you. It’s entertaining enough, watching his face morph into a million expressions until he settles on a look of offense, of wounded pride and embarrassment.

“Who says?” he barks back. His classmates groan and facepalm behind him. His twin looks ready to punch him. “Said I was sorry, didn’t I? What more do ya want? Maybe ya _aren’t_ good enough for the Triwizard Tournament. How am I meant to know?”

You give a huff, biting your tongue to keep from laughing at the audacity he has to prove why he should never have opened his mouth to begin with.

 _“Exactly._ You _don’t_ know, so you should have kept your thoughts to yourself!” You sniff slightly, and are hit with the stink of sweat. You grimace. “Besides, I don’t listen to the opinion of someone who smells like an old gym bag that hasn’t been washed for _three years!_ ”

His look of anger returns to a state of bewilderment. “What did ya just say?”

“You _stink_ \- like a bucket load of sweat poured onto a corpse. What crawled up your ass and died?”

A few of the Durmstrang students fail in containing their giggles, and the sound of laughter serves to mortify him. He squeaks and squawks, not quite finding the right words to say to such a bizarre statement, and you take that as your opportunity to leave, looking over to Sakusa who moves to stand next to you after watching everything unfold silently. As he nears your position, his lip curls in disgust and he pulls his blue and silver scarf up higher around his mouth and nose.

“Ugh, she’s right. You smell like a toad tank.”

You give ‘Atsumu’ one last look, a long look that doesn’t quite conceal the hurt you feel clouding your heart at both the betrayal and the insult he unknowingly threw at you and targeted at your fears. His anger dissipates the longer he returns the stare, until he just looks guilty and humiliated and annoyed with himself but it’s too late for that now.

“Look, I really am-” he tries to say, but you move past him in a hurry, eager to leave this all behind and meet with Akaashi for a rant. 

“Good luck, Blondie,” is all you offer with barely a look over your shoulder, and you and Sakusa exit the great hall as all the heads of Durmstrang stare you down, with one pair of eyes burning into you the most. 

(How disappointing, you think with a deep frown, that something you thought to be so sweet turned out to be sour, a bitter aftertaste that stains your tongue for hours.

Typical, typical, _typical._ )


	3. sorry, sorry, sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not exactly happy with this but it is what it is sigh
> 
> also i love how i say this will most likely not be chronological and yet it's going in that direction lol but i suppose i just want to get the intro out of the way!
> 
> please enjoy all the updates as they come bc i am on a writing high and this bad boy won't stay forever :D
> 
> regardless, i hope everyone enjoys this as usual, and feedback is always appreciated!  
> happy reading!

The roar of the crowd is deafening within the confines of the great hall of Hogwarts, people clamouring to jump up and cheer for the champions as their names shoot out of the Goblet of Fire and into Headmaster Ukai’s awaiting hands, eying the burning paper with a critical gaze before his booming voice cuts through the gasps of the crowd to announce the three champions representing their schools in the Triwizard Tournament.

Ushijima Wakatoshi for Durmstrang Institute.

Yamamoto Taketora for Beauxbatons Academy.

And Bokuto Koutarou for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You notice almost immediately that there seems to be a coincidental theme with the champions chosen by the Goblet. They’re all tall, intimidating looking men, loaded with muscles and might. Three Gods of strength and ferocity.

Beauxbatons’ Champion surprised you the most - out of the few Beauxbatons students you’d kept an eye on and made bets to be the chosen one of the school, Yamamoto Taketora wasn’t even on your list. You half expected that honour to be bestowed upon the more popular boys you’ve sussed out from your mini investigations, like that strong one who gave you a smile of encouragement yesterday, or the tall lanky one with spiky hair that carries an air of authority and leadership about him, or  _ especially  _ the pretty one with fluffy brown hair that definitely knows more than he lets on, if his thin smile tells you anything. But no, Yamamoto’s name was the one called much to his shock, and his school cheered for him with shouts and wolf whistles regardless as he made his way to the top of the hall. 

On the other hand, Durmstrangs’ Champion didn’t surprise you one bit. Ushijima Wakatoshi looks like he was handcrafted and shaped for this very moment. He is one of the most intimidating men you had ever laid your eyes on - every limb was thick and forged with steel, he walked with a back as straight as a longsword and he wore the deepest set scowl on his face that bordered on scary. He is the very image of a perfect champion and one to remember for the decades to come, but what makes you laugh is the image your brain holds onto from when he was a child. The son of a proud wizarding family, you distinctly remember there being absolutely  _ nothing _ memorable about him at all. While your father discussed matters of modernising magical laws and blood statuses, things you were too young to understand until years later, you were left to play with the son of the famed wizard Utsui Takashi. The boy spoke all but two words to you, a simple  _ ‘hello’  _ and _ ‘goodbye’  _ for when you were leaving, and you spent hours in boredom watching him draw creatures into his notebooks in silence. You never saw him again after that until today, standing tall and proud as the Durmstrangs give a war cry and chant for their chosen leader. You allow yourself a brief moment of satisfaction when you spot Mr Goldilocks with a small frown on his face, and curse yourself for the guilt creeping up your spine. Best to just ignore it and move on.

Finally, your dear friend Bokuto seems as though he is a good balance between all three champions. Light hearted and strong willed, Bokuto runs to the top of the great hall with glee, revelling in the whoops and hollers of his school and friends. While others may think he could only exceed on physical terms and not anything challenging for the mind, you’d like to think you know him better than that. Sure, he may not be the brightest burning candle, but he certainly has the spirit and tenacity to make up for it, and being practically a Jack of All Trades will prove to the other champions that he is a formidable foe, and not one to be underestimated. Bokuto will get through every task with flying colours, and the opponents won’t see it coming.

You’d be lying if you said the pang of disappointment that comes with not being chosen doesn’t cut deep. Maybe you set your hopes a little high, had thought the Goblet would judge you as fairly as the rest and see potential in you like a shining star bright amongst a busy muggle city. But all you wanted was to prove yourself as a capable, strong witch - to your family, to your school, to everyone. To show that once you say goodbye to the halls of Hogwarts for good, you won’t be just another witch wandering for the rest of her days, wondering what she could have done with her life differently. 

The Goblet, however, thought otherwise, and it’s just more foolish, childish hopes. Seems like there’s been a lot of that cutting you down lately.

But Bokuto is a dear friend - you’ll be damned if you let anything get in the way of supporting him on this dangerous journey, so you stand and scream as loud as you can when his name is announced. He spots you and Akaashi sitting to the side and he wears his widest, most prize winning smile as he pumps his fists in the air with a roar. Little sparks of colour and wonder zip around him, and you suspect his fellow Gryffindors are putting on a show for their champion. It’s quite a sight to see someone as magnificent as Bokuto lit up in an array of colours as he sports the proudest smile, and you realise that  _ this  _ is why the Goblet chose him. You feel a warmth spread in your chest for your friend, already preparing to wear shirts and badges with his cute little face plastered on them.

Akaashi sits still beside you, you notice, once the noise has died down, staring mutedly at the mingling students and professors left in the hall once the Champions had been carted away to be briefed on the tournament. You reach out to squeeze his hand, linking your fingers between his long ones to let him know you’re here for him, knowing damn well he won’t say a thing and burden this on his own and in silence. Blue eyes meet yours in question, but at your small smile, they flood with understanding and gratitude. He should have known better than to think you wouldn’t notice. 

“He’ll be fine, Keiji,” you murmur. Your cheek rests on his shoulder as you try to give as much affection as you can without embarrassing him in a crowded room. When you feel his own cheek press to the top of your head in thanks, your smile grows. “He’s strong and he’s capable and smarter than he seems. The Goblet chose him for a reason. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

“You’re right,” he concedes with a small sigh and a squeeze of your hand. “Bokuto is exceptional and brave. He’ll represent our school brilliantly. I’m sorry you weren’t chosen, though.”

All you can offer is a shrug and a weak smile. He knew how much you wanted this, but it’s no matter. What’s done is done. A clearing throat from beside you grabs your attention, and both you and Akaashi look up to see the buff Beauxbatons student from yesterday moving to sit in the seat next to you, his powder blue uniform perfectly neat and pressed as he shifts on the wooden bench. You straighten up with interest at this stranger, moving your body to face him. He gives a polite smile to both of you.

“Hey,” he starts, and you blink at the deep voice. “I just wanted to offer my commiserations for not getting chosen.” 

How curious. Nonetheless you give him a genuine smile. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you to say. I offer the same to you - I may not know you, but you look like you would have been a fearsome champion.”

His tanned cheeks become a shade darker as he chuckles, rubbing at the back of his head awkwardly. 

“Thanks. If yesterday was anything to go by, you would have made a pretty good champion yourself.” He grows quiet, and plays with his fingers. Eventually, he sighs. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I should have done something when that asshole started trash talking.”

You wince when you feel Akaashi shift closer, obviously with an ear perked and ready to ask what the hell happened without his knowledge. You had hoped to avoid telling him and begged Sakusa not to say anything, knowing Akaashi would go into ‘Prefect Mode’ and bring it up with the professors when all you wanted was to sweep it under a rug and forget about it. Honestly you’re surprised it’s managed to escape his notice for an entire day with the crowd that was there to witness your humiliation.

You answer before Akaashi has a chance to ask.

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it. You know how it is with things like this - there’s always one ready to ruin the fun. Doesn’t surprise me that it’s Durmstrang who started it either. But thank you, that’s really kind of you to think about, seeing as we don’t even know each other.”

He holds out a hand for you to shake, and it’s warm and strong in yours as you take it. 

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” he smiles, and this time you’re the one to blush, grinning back at him and introducing yourself. You nod your head at your best friend.

“That’s Akaashi, Ravenclaw Prefect. Now, we’re not strangers anymore,” you say with a laugh. “I hope you enjoy your time here at Hogwarts!”

“Thank you. I’m looking forward to the tournament and learning more about how you do things around here.”

The hall bustles with activity as some students stay to chat and have fun while others start to pile out of the hall now that the excitement has died down. Iwaizumi eyes the retreating students with a furrowed brow, but before you can ask what’s wrong he turns around and clears his throat.

“A-Actually, I was wondering, if you’re not busy, could you show me ar-”

A loud, exasperated call of your name startles all three of you. Sugawara, a kind Slytherin with whom you share your Herbology classes with, bounds over to you with a huff, dodging the throng of students with practiced ease until he stands right in front of you, looking irked compared to his usual sunny disposition. He takes hold of your hand and gives a light tug.

“Can you come with me to catch some Leaping Toadstools for the next lesson? You said you’d help this week! I’m losing my mind and my time with this stupid assignment and I don’t want to get detention for not completing it properly because  _ Hogshite  _ is the  _ worst  _ school-”

_ “Suga,” _ Akaashi interrupts, and the silver haired Slytherin cuts off his rant mid sentence with a blink. Akaashi pointedly stares at the Beauxbatons student who watches the scene in bewilderment. “We’re talking to a guest, I’m sure the Leaping Toadstools can wait.” He shakes his head slightly. “If you ever want to learn more about Hogwarts, Iwaizumi - I would avoid asking Sugawara here.”

“Oh,” Suga replies, ignoring the subtle jab, and flashes Iwaizumi an embarrassed smile. “Sorry-”

“It’s fine,” Iwaizumi snorts.

“I should probably help Suga, though. I did promise…” You offer a grimace, but Iwaizumi just looks at you kindly. “What were you going to say?”

“It...doesn’t matter. I should regroup with my class. I… I hope we can talk again soon.” Iwaizumi stands up, and bows at the group with a kind smile. His green eyes meet yours again. “See you around.”

As Iwaizumi’s broad back walks away, Suga wastes no time in dragging you up out of your seat. You look at Akaashi, silently questioning if he’ll accompany you both, but the brunette shakes his head. 

“I’m going to be busy setting things up with the other houses to organise a tour. Good luck catching the toadstools,” Akaashi gently shoos you both with a wave of his hand, and you have barely a second to say goodbye as Suga pulls you out of the hall, talking animatedly about his day and how much he despises Herbology.

There’s a large group to the entrance of the hall that looks almost impenetrable were it not for the power of Suga’s annoyance allowing him to bulldoze through the students, and all you can do is hold on for dear life and hope to not get lost as he manages to drag you out to the main courtyard. 

You hate that you feel a jolt of dread shoot through you when the fur coats of Durmstrang come into view as they stand to the side, hate it so much that it leaves you feeling agitated, gripping onto Suga’s hand just a little bit tighter. If he notices, he doesn’t say, and simply changes the speed of his strides to be slower now that the freedom of the courtyard allows it.

Things would be fine, would be great, would be  _ just handy dandy,  _ if the both of you were able to continue on your journey without interruptions so you could get this over with and relax in the common room with Kiyoko. But life, as usual, likes to pluck at the strings of fate, and disrupt the balance you once loved so much.

You wish you had the talent for seeing the future like your Aunty does so you can avoid the path most troubling.

A voice, a familiar one that you had hoped to never hear again, shouts across the courtyard to garner your attention.

You could play dumb and think he’s calling out to someone else, but he’s making it  _ very hard to do so. _

“Hey you! The one with the blue tie!  _ Blue tie!  _ The one from yesterday!” 

Suga looks back in confusion, peering over your head at the offending heckler and once he realises who he’s trying to talk to, he looks down at you in amusement with a raised brow. You muster up the coldest look you can, but Suga looks unperturbed. ‘Atsumu’ still continues his shouting despite his classmates vehemently shushing him.

“Oi, I’m tryna talk to ya- not you, dumbass! The girl with the blue tie holdin’ hands with the guy with the green ti-  _ holdin’ hands?” _

Suga looks like he’s loving every second of this. You try to pinch him on the side of his stomach but he dodges it, holding up your linked hands with a shake and a bright grin.

“Yoohoo! Looking for us?”

Your blood runs cold. Leaping Toadstools be damned, he’s on his own now.

The blonde Durmstrang bounds up to you, and you mentally prepare for another round of insults to come your way from this stupid, arrogant, punch worthy, handsome-

_ Kill me. Kill me now. _

He stops in front of you with a reddening face and just stares. He doesn’t say one word for an uncomfortably long amount of time, and just let’s his eyes rove over your face as you grow uneasy under his gaze. Brown eyes like the earth flicker about your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory, and if he keeps this up then maybe it’ll be the last thing he sees before you whip out your wand and knock him out.

“What do you want?” you bark out. It gets him moving again.

He clears his throat, stands straighter, adjusts his fur hat. A few others from his group drift closer, whether out of nosiness or to make sure he stays in line, you aren’t sure, but you don’t appreciate the audience.

He flashes Suga a quick look, a narrow of his eyes that exude suspicion and annoyance but Suga doesn’t mind, merely takes a step back for ‘privacy’ but not out of hearing range so he can’t gossip about what happened later.

“I came to apologise,” he begins, puffing out his chest. You can’t quite stop the quick rise of your brows in shock, to which he responds with an annoyed huff, as if the concept of him apologising is foreign and strange.

Unbeknownst to you, but common knowledge to the occupants of Durmstrang, it  _ was  _ a strange thing to happen.

“Did someone put you up to this?” you mumble sourly, looking behind him at the little group forming a short distance away from him. You spot his twin who gives a small wave, the one who had lectured him yesterday, and two others you don’t recognise - a dark skinned man with a smile and muscles that could give Bokuto a run for his money, and another with eyes that make him look like he’s close to falling asleep. They all acknowledge you in some way, and you can only nod lightly in confusion.

Mr Goldilocks scoffs, and crosses his arms, tucking his hands into the crooks of his elbows. “Why is everyone actin’ like somebody’s holdin’ me at gunpoint to do this? ‘M capable of apologisin’ when I need to!”

You say nothing in response and just narrow your eyes, waiting for him to get on with things so you can clear the air and move on with things. He looks thrown off by your silence, yet clears his throat to speak once more. 

“Look, I just wanted to say sorry for all the shitty things I said about ya yesterday. It wasn’t right of me to do that.”

Your traitorous heart gives a little lurch at the sincerity lacing his words and the earnestness in his small smile. Maybe, just maybe, you can give him the benefit of the doubt - it was just trash talk. It happens all the time in sports. Yeah, it wasn’t right of him to do it unprovoked, but - it was just a mistake, right?

You sigh lightly with acceptance on your lips, ready to forgive and forget, but then he opens his mouth again and shatters everything like a hammer to glass.

“Even if you were kinda mean to me.”

A harsh scoff escapes your mouth.

“Excuse me? Mean to  _ you?”  _

The group behind him sigh out his name in frustration. He has the audacity to look irritated at your words, as if it was obvious this was as much your fault as it was his, but you don’t exactly recall picking him out from the crowd and belittling him in front of a large number of people.

“Yeah? You don’t remember?”

“I seem to recall it was  _ you  _ who insulted me!”

He takes a step closer, exasperation and frustration etched in his features. “Yeah, and I said it wasn’t cool o’ me and said sorry, but then you started insultin’ me! You ain’t exactly innocent here, either.”

His accent grows thicker almost as quick as his face grows red with his fury, and you’re close to laughing loudly in shock. His brother moves closer to his side with a frown.

“I was defending myself! I insulted you because you were insulting me!”

“Ya said I stank!”

“Because you  _ do!” _

“I don’t, ya lil-!”

His brother punches him in the shoulder, and he stumbles forward with a howl, recovering quickly to get in his brother's face and tell him off. 

“Oi, oi, Samu! What was that for?!”

“Ya need to stop bein’ stupid Tsumu! You talked all night about wantin’ to say yer sorry to this girl and then ya went and ruined it with that fat gob of yours!”

“Whaddya mean fat gob, ya ugly worm-”

The one with the narrowed eyes laughs. “Ya both look the same, dumbass.”

“Suna, stay outta this,” the blonde brother growls, and ‘Suna’ merely laughs at his anger.

You’ve had enough, inwardly deciding the trouble you’d get in for sending him halfway across the courtyard was not worth the migraine of dealing with the Headmaster and Akaashi giving their signature looks of disappointment. Your fingers latch onto Suga’s sleeve, and you make ready to drag his ass away to get these stupid toadstools so you can be sad in peace afterwards.

“I’ve had enough, this is pointless. I’m done here.”

“Wait!”

The sounds of bickering come to a halt, and you manage to get two steps away from him before a large hand wraps around your upper arm and spins you around to face him again. This is really grating on your nerves, and the growing uneasiness on Suga’s face just adds to your panic and need to get the hell out of here.

You snatch your arm out of his grip, and he physically bites his lip to keep from saying something stupid again without thinking. His chest, wide and broad like a quidditch field, shifts up and down as he takes several breaths to compose himself while you hold yours in equal parts fear and anticipation. 

In the space of three days since he has arrived at Hogwarts he has tossed and twisted your emotions so strongly that it threw you for a loop and left you so utterly dumbfounded as to what emotion you should settle on when thinking about him.  _ He doesn’t even know your name. _

“I’m...I-,” he huffs, rolls his eyes to the skies above, clenches his fists. You’d take offense, but his body tells that he’s more frustrated with himself than you. “I’m really sorry. For everythin’. For today and yesterday. I’m bein’ an ass, and it doesn’t look good on me or my school. I don’t mean anythin’ I said!”

Suddenly, he bows deeply, and you’re forced to look at the top of his head as he talks.

“Please gimme a second chance to change yer impression of me!”

You stand there, silently fuming and anxiously fiddling with the edges of your robe. He’s practically shouting, and your face burns, realising that he has,  _ once again,  _ attracted the eyes of everyone nearby with his loud apology and begging for forgiveness. It’s like this man  _ craves  _ attention in any form, seeks it out naturally as if it were as easy as breathing. You have half a mind to knee him in the face. It’s the perfect position for it.

But then he just  _ has  _ to tilt his head up and pin those watery brown eyes at you, eyes that plead and flood with the same sincerity from earlier. He’s really asking for forgiveness. And the idea of turning him away with your nose held high doesn’t satisfy you as much as you wished it would.

You think of Akaashi, mentally picture the sternest face he’s ever shown you, ponder what he would say if he were here right now:

_ ‘In the interest of the schools and students learning cooperation and shedding bad blood in order to make this an enjoyable experience for everyone, forgive him. Try to get to know him and form a friendship. Be a good example to others. And stop eating my jellybeans-’ _

You stop that line of thought right there.

Suga offers a shrug with wide eyes when you look to him for help. A nasty bit of guilt gnaws away at your gut, and with one last mental slap to your face, you heave a sigh that loosens the tension in your shoulders. 

He looks hopeful and lost like a small child when you step closer to him, beckoning him to stand up straight again and stop embarrassing you further with these strange Durmstrang customs.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” you tell him, and a small scowl is all you get from him. Thankful he didn’t cause another outburst, you continue. “But we all make dumb,  _ childish  _ mistakes. Even me. I’d rather put this behind us so we can both move on. I...ugh, I forgive you.”

His annoyingly cute face lights up like a firework and he smiles wide, proud that he managed to squeeze droplets of forgiveness out of you and clear his conscience. Ignoring the odd feeling in your chest that blooms at his grin, you hold out your hand for him to shake and tell him your name.

“Names Miya Atsumu,” he tells you with a warm shake to your hand, keeping hold of it for a second longer than necessary before letting it drop to your side. Atsumu points behind him to his brother. “That’s Osamu, my brother. The rest are Kita, Aran, and Suna.”

The name Miya rings a bell in the deepest reaches of your mind, but you can’t quite find the information you search for. You make a mental note to ask your dad about it. Maybe he would know. You nod your greetings to each in the group, allow Suga to step up and introduce himself, and glance at your watch. It won’t be long until it starts to grow dark, and you don’t particularly fancy trying to catch plants in the darkness of the night.

“I’m sorry to cut this short, but we have to go do something for an assignment and it’s getting late,” you inform with a grimace.

Atsumu looks disappointed, but Kita nods in understanding. 

“It’s no problem,” he says graciously with an upturn of his lips. “Apologies for taking up so much of your time.”

Suga gives a wave of his hand. “It’s ok! I think we’ve said enough ‘sorrys’ today to last a lifetime. Hopefully there won’t be any more.”

“With Tsumu around, I doubt that,” Osamu pipes up, making you laugh while his twin throws a punch that Osamu dodges easily. You give one last smile to the group.

“Goodbye everyone! Hopefully we will meet again soon. Enjoy your time at Hogwarts and good luck in the tournament!” 

You turn once the chorus of ‘thanks’ ends and let Suga drag you out of the courtyard in a rush once more to avoid any more mishaps and halt your progress again. 

But because you can be a bit of a brat, and you just have an inexplicable need to have the last word, you turn your head to look at the group again, eyes zeroing in on Atsumu who is the only one from the group watching your retreating form.

“By the way,” you call out, and grin when he perks his head up. “You really do smell like sweat. You should get that checked out.”

To your shock (and slight displeasure) Atsumu doesn’t lash out. Instead he rolls his eyes and smirks at you in a way that tells you he’s ready to create even more chaos in your life than before.

“Sure thing, smart ass,” he shouts back. “I will when ya get that massive head of yours checked!”

His laugh booms through the courtyard, and Suga has to wrap a hand around your mouth and haul you away by the scruff of your shirt to stop you from scratching his pretty eyes out.


End file.
